


The Honorable Lord Hand

by Basileus



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Crack, F/M, Gen, M/M, No attempt has been made to impose Modern Values in a medieval world, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, What Was I Thinking?, allusions to suicide.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-16 01:36:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1326910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basileus/pseuds/Basileus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A less naive Ned Stark, and a more cooperative Varys together in King's Landing.</p><p>And the fate of Westros changes irreversibly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Dutiful Hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [l_cloudy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/l_cloudy/gifts), [Himura](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Himura).
  * Inspired by [Oberyn Martell, First of His Name](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1216987) by [l_cloudy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/l_cloudy/pseuds/l_cloudy). 



> I have recently gotten a lot of flak over my perceived Anti-Stark approach (though I confess, I am somewhat baffled by that—I mean, I am merely taking a cue from the author whose work we are inspired by. Arguably, I have been kinder than GRRM himself.
> 
> But a wonderful AU idea did come up. Let us have a slightly less naive Lord Eddard and a bit more cooperative Varys—add to it my crazy imagination and BOOM—you have my first Crack-fic.
> 
> Ladies and Gentlemen, May I present the Most Not-so-Honorable Lord Stark.
> 
> Enter DarkNed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Eddard wonders where his genius plan failed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing.
> 
> Greatly inspired by Cloudy's work.

_298 AL, Kings Landing_.

 _Well,_ thought Lord Stark, _that had not exactly gone as I had planned._ He, Renly and the Tyrell men had seized the Keep within moments of Robert dying, but Renly had to try to act the hero and got stabbed to death by Selmy. The old man had nearly been killed by the Tyrell knights, and Ned had barely been able to save him. _His death would have been a great loss._

 _Except he killed your king, trying to defend those Lannister bastards,_ muttered his not-so-honorable voice. _What are you going to give to the Tyrell’s now, after their goodson got himself killed?_

He tried to squish that voice, but found he could not, to his horror. _Jon Arryn would not be too happy._ Except, as the voice was quick to remind him, Jon Arryn was dead, and he was only alive precisely because of that voice.

 _Thank the Old Gods for that, I do not know what I would have done otherwise, had I tried to be honorable Lord Stark of the North. Probably told Cersei that I knew her secret, of course or told Robert that she had spiked his wine? Or trust Baelish or maybe ask Catelyn to kidnap the Imp should she run into him?_ He shuddered, though it still hurt to think of Robert. He wished it wasn’t necessary, but it very much was.

He had tried to be a good Hand, and though disappointed by Robert’s absence from the Small Council, had tried to do the best he can. He had asked for the accounts, as was his custom and the fool Baelish had expected him to be another uneducated Lord who did not know sums. He hadn’t been able to sleep for a week after realizing the full extent of the Crown’s fiscal woes. Robert’s extravagance was certainly a factor, but after going over it with a fine toothed comb, he had detected a lot of corruption too, which the Master of Coin must have known about.

 _And that fool Baelish had wanted me to trust him about that dagger, after all this._ He had strictly forbidden Catelyn from listening to a word Baelish said (in private, of course) and sent her off on a ship to White Harbor, just in case she ran into the Imp and did something rash if she traveled along the land route. He had found out about the bastards soon enough, thanks to Varys, who ironically was the most honorable man in the whole council, after he himself, of course. Still, he had not trusted Varys, had his food and drink carefully examined daily and had carefully checked the whole thing himself. After discovering what were the results of the Queen’s, _ah, affection_ , for her brother, he had spent a week thinking. But the answer was clear, he had not wasted good Northern blood to secure the Throne for another Aegon the Unworthy, and observe him bankrupt the Realm while drinking himself to death. _Or pave the way for Aerys the Third._ He shuddered when he thought of Joffrey, _a dog off the streets would do better_ and was glad that he was not going to be his goodson. Sansa will not be happy, but he had her under constant observation ever since the incident with the wolves. He was aware of her meeting Cersei, had encouraged it even, for who else could he feed false information to pass to Cersei? Poor Sansa will be very unhappy to know she had been lied to for so long, _but I am not giving you a chance to complain. You are marrying Smalljon Umber as soon as we get back and going to the Last Hearth, as far North I can possibly send you._

Contacting Renly had been the only way out, he needed men if he was to dispose of both Robert and the Lannisters, and someone to place on the Throne. He would have preferred Stannis, but Renly could get men from Highgarden, thanks to his relationship with Loras Tyrell. It had been simple, he had arranged Renly’s marriage to Margaery and had Tyrell men pour into the City. They had left, of course, to accompany Renly to Storm’s End. Except Varys had them all sneack back in and they were all hiding in the City the entire time. When Varys told him about Cersei poisoning the wine, he had laughed, for that removed the need to eliminate Robert himself. The boar had done a fair job; he had to admit, although he was sad to lose his oldest friend. _All for the realm, I swore to be a good Hand, and I am._

Seizing the Castle had been a simple affair, and catching Jaime and Cersei in bed had been an unexpected pleasure. All of them were in the black cells, under constant watch. _Renly would have had them executed, and I should, but we need a King first._ Barristan getting Renly had been a slight hiccup, to put it mildly. Stannis already hated him, and wasn’t going to take news of this coup well (especially if someone let slip he wanted Renly on the Throne). The man had cut off the fingers of the Onion Knight, who had saved his life! No, Lord Stark thought, certainly not Stannis, if only out of his sense of self preservation.

 _The Red God will be enough of an excuse, just what I need to turn to Stannis into a Maegor. But then who? One of Robert’s bastards?_ He shuddered, his son will have to do the same thing in twenty years. _Velaryon? Doran Martell? Both have enough dragonblood to be King._

_But they are married, and I need to appease the Tyrell’s right now! They won’t accept a Dornish King, and Velaryon has no son of the right age for Renly’s widow. Damn it all!_

He briefly considered taking the Tears of Lys for himself, after telling Robb to secede and be done with the Seven Kingdoms. The idea was looking rather attractive, if only that each passing moment created a risk that Tywin would find out and create trouble. _I need the Tyrells to throw off the Lannisters., Until Robb can get here._ He had already asked his son to call the banners and march South, to defend the Riverlands from Tywin.

He had poured himself some wine and was contemplating how long would it take for him to hit the surface from the top Tower, when Varys entered the room.

‘Why so glum, my Lord?’

‘I need a King, Lord Varys, preferably unwed. Any suggestions?’

‘The obvious choice is your nephew’

Wine flew out of Eddard Stark’s mouth. ‘ _How?’_ Aloud, he stammered, ‘Wha-what?’

‘Don’t act silly, Lord Stark, do you think I was helping you for assisting Renly?’

Realization dawned on him, ‘You told Renly where Joffrey was sleeping, didn’t you?’

‘So that Barristan got him, sparing me the task?’

‘What have you done with Stannis?’

‘Lord Velaryon is on it, as is Lord Celtigar and a few others. Suffices to say, the fish around Dragonstone probably got a good meal today.’

‘The girl in the East?’

‘Daenerys? She will be taken care of. She was a backup in case all failed.’

Revulsion rose up his throat, ‘Killing her—‘

‘Who said kill? Simply remove the dragon eggs from her.’

‘YOU GAVE HER WHAT?’

‘It was a backup, which will not be necessary any more. His Grace will need them much more.’

‘You seem sure they have not hatched, considering the great distance in between.’

‘Because I ordered their removal as soon as I realized you had more brains than your foster father. They are here, in the Keep now.’

‘You played me all along?’

‘I never intended to hurt you. Besides, you have to admit, this is the best solution. Everyone will be happy save Tywin, but who cares about him? His grace is still unwed, and I think the Rose of Highgarden will not be a bad fit.’

‘If he has already sworn himself to the Watch—‘

‘Lord Velaryon promised a dozen men to the Lord Commander to stop him from swearing in. If that failed, Mace Tyrell will offer two hundred men, if that means he has grandchildren with dragonblood.’

‘My approval doesn’t matter, does it?’

‘It would certainly be helpful, but not necessary. Lord Velaryon should already be on the route to White Harbor and then to the Wall. A letter from the Lord Hand to the Lord Commander, explaining the changed circumstances will certainly help matters.’

‘…….’

‘We are also getting Maester Aemon from the Wall for the coronation, invitations to Essos have already been sent. Lord Mace will meet you in three hours to finalize the betrothal between his daughter and your nephew.’

‘What am I getting out of this?’

‘You are still Hand, of course. And His Grace will certainly be generous in offering the spoils to his supposed brothers and sisters, from what I know of him.’

‘Gods, Arya is never going to marry at this rate. I know who Jon will hire to the Kingsguard first.’

‘She cannot be worse than the current lot.’

‘That is true, I suppose. Bring whatever letters you already have prepared, so that I can sign off. I promised the boy I will tell him about his mother when we meet next, I guess it will just have to be the moments before coronation. The Lords of the Crownlands are with us?’

‘Certainly, Your Grace. With them and the Reach, we can hold off Tywin till your son gets here.’

_I am also writing to Robb to go with Velaryon to the wall, just so that there is nothing fishy going on. We also need to send Jaime Lannister’s head to Dorne, and promise them Tywin’s just to ensure their neutrality. I hope my goodfather can delay Tywin long enough for the Northmen to get there._

_Well, Lya, I am sorry I cannot keep my promise. I guess I have to make him King after all._


	2. The Loving Uncle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having made his bed, Lord Eddard prepares to sleep in it.

Continued from the previous chapter. __  
  


 _298 AL, Kings Landing._

‘Anything else I should know, Lord Varys? Such as, perhaps the Golden Company being hired to assist us?’

Varys laughed nervously, and Ned felt a massive headache approach. _That was supposed to be a joke. Where will I find the gold to pay them?_

‘No, my Lord. It was considered but found unnecessary. The only thing left, I suppose, is the minor, sticky detail that your goodsister Lysa poisoned her husband.’

‘LYSA DID WHAT?’ he roared, standing up.

‘I think it was Baelish who planned the whole thing, for Arryn had found out about the Lannister bastards.’

Ned Stark collapsed back into his seat, _so Baelish was the man Lord Hoster had mentioned._ Hoster Tully had told them that Lysa was not a maiden, but Jon was too old to care too much about this. _Except it cost him his life._

‘I will have a letter ready for you in an hour. Have it sent to Lord Yohn Royce in the Vale. This is of utmost importance, Lord Varys, as we need the Vale to fight Tywin. I knew Lord Royce from when I was fostered there, and he will defend the honor of House Arryn after I instruct him what must be done. We need to tread carefully, for Ser Brynden Tully may be honorable, but family comes first for those damn fishes. Lord Royce will have the Vale secured for us, very soon.’

‘If I may offer a word of advice, you should write to your goodsister as well, telling her that Baelish has sung like a canary and all the Vale houses have been informed about her crime.’

‘Evidence, Lord Varys, evidence. I cannot tell her to jump out of the Moon Door without enough evidence.’

Varys dropped a package on the desk. ‘Communication between them. Baelish thought he was smart, I proved smarter.’

‘I will write to Lysa as well. Hopefully that damn woman has enough honor to jump from the Eyrie than let us drag her to a headman. There is also a slight change of plans, Reach men can only be used to defend Crownlands and the Reach-let Tywin do what he will with the Riverlands, and wear himself out, before we gut him.’

‘You need to be quick about speaking with Lord Tyrell, my Lord. Someone had whispered about marrying Margaery to Joffrey.’

 _Even Mace Tyrell won’t be so stupid._ ‘I will meet the Tyrells as soon as I have a conversation with Cersei.’

‘Allow me to lead you to her cell then, my Lord.’

* * *

 

‘I hope the accommodations suit your taste, my Lady’, spoke Ned Stark.

Cersei Lannister looked like she would have assaulted him, if she wasn’t chained to the wall. _A necessary precaution._

‘I was wrong to have overestimated your honor, Lord Stark. But it changes nothing, my Father will soon teach you and your family a lesson, and Joff will be king.‘

‘The only King the Seven Kingdoms will have is Jaehaerys III Targaryen, my nephew.’

He was extremely pleased to see Cersei’s reaction, as her face showed shock for the first time in this whole ordeal.

‘Rhaegar’s?’ she whispered.

‘With Lyanna, proclaimed King in the last days of Targaryen rule by Queen Rhaella and Lord Commander Gerold Hightower.’

‘But he will need a Queen, won’t he?’

This was not a question Ned Stark had anticipated, and he was wary, to say the least. ‘How is that your concern?’

‘I would like to mention that I am available, I am nobly born, have experience being Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, can provide the gold of the Rock to the service of the King and my fertility is not in question. So, I believe I am most suited to wed Rhaegar’s son and hope you will consider this favorably as the Regent.’

Ned Stark had not interrupted her, as he was rendered speechless by her speech. _Who has been supplying her with drugs?_ ‘Your attempt of humor is a complete failure.’

‘Humor?,’ Cersei spoke, her face completely serious. ‘I am very serious, Lord Stark.’

‘You are old enough to be his mother.’ _Older than what Lyanna would have been today._ ‘And I am aware that you did not keep to one bed while married to Robert.’

‘Prince Daemon and Princess Rhaenyra were uncle and niece, so age is no bar. Jaime and I were merely indulging in one of the most time honored traditions of House Targaryen, but execute him off if you want. Robert was not a dragon, and I shall not stray from the bed of Rhaegar’s son.’

 _No, I am definitely not listening to this._ ‘Out of question, we still need to get rid of your bastards. Besides, Margaery Tyrell is younger, and prettier; I am sure my nephew will prefer that to an old woman having birthed three children,’ Ned Stark said, before turning and moving swiftly to the door.

‘Consider Myrcella if I am too old, please do not go, lord Regent, please, please, PLEASE.’

 _She won, she succeeded in scaring me out of the dungeons,_ thought Ned as he rushed up the stairs. _Now the Tyrells._

* * *

 

‘Targaryen?’ Lord Mace asked, excitement barely contained in his face. ‘A dragon from Prince Rhaegar’s line?’

Ned nodded his assent, and was greeted with the distressing sight of seeing that fat man try to dance. _Jon owes me a lot for enduring this._ Tarly and Rowan were not whooping, or jumping up and down, but the smiles on their faces revealed their thoughts.

‘We all fought for King Aerys, these are welcome tidings,’ spoke Tarly.

‘There is still the question of what to do, if he was sworn himself to the Watch.’

‘Who cares?,’ yelled Mace Tyrell. ‘I will give the Lord Commander five hundred, nay a thousand men to free my goodson.’

 _I need to keep this one under control._ The upright Lord Tarly looked slightly uneasy at the thought of oath-breaking, but nodded his assent.

‘These are extraordinary circumstances after all,’ spoke Randyll Tarly. ‘Nevertheless, I do not think he has been sworn in yet. My firstborn is in the Watch, and I was pleased to know that he had found proper company in the form of Lord Stark’s natural son, if you would forgive my ignorance concerning the true status of His Grace. Nevertheless, the batch of recruits His Grace is in has probably not been sworn in, since Sam has not written to me yet.’

‘Perhaps Fat Sam did not want to tell you that he didn’t graduate with his class?,’ said the Fat Flower.

Tarly clenched his fist but instead turned to face Ned Stark. ‘Does His Grace keep to the Old Gods?’

 _Damn, I forgot about that detail. Still, Jon was never religious, and I am sure he can convert in a week. I hope pious Lord Tarly will be satisfied with that._ ‘He does, but—‘

‘Then any oaths he might swear will to be to a Heart-tree, that has no legal standing South of the Neck, so it is not Oath-breaking. We simply need to get him South of the Neck in some fashion,’ finished Lord Tarly.

 _That was better._ ‘Lord Velaryon is already headed to the Wall, and he promised a dozen men to delay swearing His Grace in.’

‘Only a dozen?’ asked Mace Tyrell with disdain.

‘Any more would attract undue suspicion. I know Lord Commander Mormont personally, I will write and offer a hundred if he has been sworn in. We can increase the number, based on his response. My son will be accompanying Lord Velaryon, and he will deal with the situation there.’

‘Sounds a good plan, now shall we defend the Riverlands from Lord Tywin? ‘, said Tarly.

‘No, let him waste his strength there.’

‘Rather cold attitude towards your wife’s family, my Lord.’

‘Not cold, simply practical.’


	3. Author's Note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is not an update. Regular updates will happen later, and the current contents will be relegated to a note.

There is something I feel I have to speak about, no matter how much I dislike it. Recently there have been several comments on a few of my fics about 'how my characters are just wrong'. Now, there is nothing wrong with criticism-I welcome it, and am grateful to the large number of people (you know who you are! Thanks guys!) who have pointed out grammatical/spelling errors, as well as constructive criticism+questions.  
  
However, I feel I have to draw a line about certain things-This is fanfiction and people do make assumptions about characters or make them act in different ways. It is expected after all, else there would be nothing to do but copy canon (or explore small quantum mechanical perturbations to amplify). There will of course be author bias seeping in, and my fics generally use character POV's, where another layer of bias comes in.   
  
In long, detailed fics like 'Weirwood and Volcano', I anticipated criticism about the way certain characters met their ends. To my delight, most of the reviewers (even those who admittedly like some of characters I sent off to an early grave) expressed an understanding of why it was necessary. Recently though, I have been on the receiving end of criticism from some ardent fans of House Tully/Eddard Stark/Sansa, who feel I have not done their fav character/s justice. So far, I have endeavored to give detailed replies to their concerns, but this is getting ridiculous. People are talking about how made characters OC in a Crack-Fic, which suggests that some people are probably missing the whole point of such a fic.  
  
Please understand that I am not referring to all of you-many of you have been with me from the start, and I am really grateful for all your positive messages that help me to keep writing. It is only certain recent anon reviewers (I am not even certain if there are multiple people or one person) that have tried my patience. The obvious solution would be to block anon reviews, but I will not do so-I have posted anon reviews in my own time and at least one of my best reviewers prefers to not have an account here.  
  
While I dislike the near-fascist approach I have to take-I will simply delete comments that are about how I am wrong to screw Catelyn over or such-I have justified my thought process far too many times already. Feel free to boycott this fic, mute me, delete my comments in your fics, etc etc, but I will stand firm.

I came to this site to write, not debate canon. Else I would have gone to westros.org and such. While some discussions about canon are helpful, one-track defenders are rarely the ones to initiate such. My writings will invariably reflect my own thinking process and I am not ashamed of it. I refuse to waste my breathe debating this one issue ad-infinitum. You are still perfectly entitled to comment about just how wrong I am, but I will either ignore or delete them, just not to clutter it up for other reviewers. There are no financial dealings here, and so I have absolutely no reason to defend my thinking-I only do so because I like discussions with reasonable people (some recent discussions are anything but that).

Thank you for reading this-I hope you will stay on for the rest of this fic. If I make mistakes (factual, grammatical, spelling) etc, please feel free to point these out (all such comments will be untouched) or if you have questions about how things are moving etc, by all means ask! If the only thing you have to say is that I should not screw Catelyn over, I would request you to read some earlier threads and see if that issue has not been debated to death already. If you still continue to feel so, I would request you to not comment so as to not waste both our energies.  
  
Thank you again, my dear readers. I am grateful that so many people have read this fic, and felt it worthwhile to leave a message behind. I am delighted to have so many readers.

Your sincerely,

Basileus.


	4. The Lands of Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Multiple, short POVs per chapter begin. The year is 298AL-not mentioning it specifically from now (until we do move to 299)  
> Events happening in the North and in the Wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the massive outpouring of support. I was extremely happy to see so many people spend some time to offer their views. I decided to leave that Author’s Note sitting right there, although for once I will not offer individual replies. Please allow me to thank all you of here, collectively. Just a clarification: Fascist censor only on for this fic, specifically labeled ‘Crack’. Discussions can continue as always in other fics (without me intervening,, although I might just redirect to another thread instead of making the same point multiple points.)
> 
> A couple of points here: Ned going ‘whatever’ on the Riverlands is certainly slightly unexpected, and I am elaborating what not-honorable Lord Stark was thinking. Lysa having a lover raises huge questions about Robert Arryn’s paternity, especially on account of Jon Arryn’s age. To be fair, I am not blaming Lysa-she was essentially sold to buy her father influence. The one who deserves to be despised is Hoster, for marrying her to a man older than himself, his pound of flesh for supporting Robert’s Rebellion. 
> 
> Ned is understandably outraged about Jon Arryn being poisoned, Ned did care for that man a lot, and Arryn (unlike Robert) died before he could fall from the lofty position Ned placed him on. He is suddenly suspicious about Hoster’s possible role in the whole affair-had Arryn been too old to father a kid, the Vale would go out of Tully influence to a distant relative like Harry the Heir, and Lysa would simply be a childless widow. Ned suspects that Hoster had encouraged Baelish+Lysa (Baelish had been fostered with Hoster-and Ned indirectly blames Hoster for Baelish’s failings as well, though this is more subconscious) to secure an heir for the Vale. Mater semper certa est. Ned does not have any proof (and I can confirm that is not true for this fic, and is probably not true in canon either)-but he is much more paranoid in this world. His sense of honor already mistrusts Hoster somewhat (as he only agreed to aid them in Robert’s Rebellion by forcing them to buy his daughter, setting off some alarms in Ned’s mind to where this man’s ambition might lead to) and under the circumstances (his own practicality + cynicism developed from KL politics), he thinks that Hoster might be culpable on some level. 
> 
> Therefore his idea is that let Hoster and Tywin fight, it’s not his business if Hoster, ruling over a much larger land than Tywin, proves completely inept and can’t get his own bannermen (such as Freys) to obey. Hoster is nowhere close to his list of priorities-his Northmen are not dying over this, and he is not indebting himself any more to Mace until Margaery is wedded+bedded. It also saps Tywin’s strength off.
> 
> Origins of Ned’s practicality: Tower of Joy. He was about to be decapitated by Dayne when Reed stabs him from the back and poisons him. Ned was fairly young then, and that event would serve to define some aspects of his life. He is not a grasping ‘Tywin lite’ and he acts the same old Ned way towards those he feels are honorable. Those men are rather rare South of the Neck.  
> Having learnt the lesson that sometimes there are more routes than the direct way, Ned tries to learn the lesson-and pass it on to his sons(+Jon), a sense of practicality to temper the infamous Stark honor with. KL brings out the worst in him, but his determination to not go down forces him to play the game to maximize his odds of victory. ‘Expedient means’-you might call it.

_Catelyn Tully, Winterfell._

Catelyn was surprised to see so many men outside Winterfell, as she rode on with Ser Rodrick and the Manderly men. _Everyone has responded to Ned calling the banners._ She had heard about Ned’s orders to call the banners and prepare for war on arrival to White Harbor, and Lord Manderly had sent all his men with her and Ser Rodrick. _I did have my doubts about to how many would heed the call to obey a fourteen year old boy, but I suppose eight thousand years worth loyalty is stronger than that,_ remembering with a pang that the Freys had only aided her father after they had won at the Trident, while Darry and many others had openly defied Hoster Tully. _But they lost and we won, now we go teach the Lannisters a lesson._ The men thought so too, judging from the festive atmosphere.

Robb had been waiting for her, and she was led to Ned’s solar soon after dismounting, along with Ser Rodrik. Maester Luwin was there as well, and so were Lords Umber and Glover, and Maege Mormont. Catelyn was not too fond of the improper woman with her bastards, but those three were Ned’s most trusted bannermen(men! ha!!) and so she chose to maintain silence. _Northern savages indeed, all barbarians North of the Neck and South of the Marches. At least Ned was raised civilly by Lord Arryn._

‘There has been a slight change in circumstances my lady, Robert Baratheon is dead’, spoke Luwin.

 _Dead, but how? He was pretty hale when I was in Kings Landing._ But drink often did just that, and it was really no great loss to the Realm, though it meant the Lannister woman held power in Kings Landing. _Even more imperative we ride down and secure the place_ , _so that Sansa can wed Joffrey and be Queen._

‘Has Joffrey been crowned?’

‘There have been, umm, _difficulties_ about that.’

 _What difficulties?_ ‘What about Tommen?’ _It may have to be Arya then, as the boy cannot marry a girl much older. Will have to look for a match in the Reach for my poor Sansa._

‘Difficulties there too, my lady. Lord Robb has to go South for help settling the issue.’

 _Myrcella? Robb going South? Oh my dear, sweet Ned, I am amazed by your foresight. By wedding them together, we get the Throne for our son!_ Aloud, she exclaimed, ‘So that’s why the men are in such a festive mood! The King is coming from Winterfell, Robb this is your moment of glory!!! Your father’s wisdom to remove Myrcella’s brothers and marry her to you has brought this good fortune upon us.’

‘Umm, Mother- I am not going to marry Myrcella or be King,’ said Robb.

‘However the King is coming from Winterfell,’ said Luwin.

 _Don’t tell me my Honorable Lord husband wants to confine his firstborn to the North._ ‘Bran? He might be closer in age, but will the realm accept a cripple? And Rickon is but a babe.’

The silence that greeted her was deafening. She laughed nervously before saying, ‘Don’t jape with your poor mother, Robb. Marry Myrcell or Shireen, whoever it is and be King. One would think from your words that my husband is crowning Jon Snow.’

The expressions were answer enough, and Catelyn felt the world around her go black.

* * *

 

‘How could he?!!’ she screamed as soon as she regained consciousness, ‘make Ashara Dayne’s bastard King, over his firstborn!!!’

‘To be fair, my lady- Robb doesn’t have Targaryen blood, unless you had a dalliance with Rhaegar Targaryen that we are not aware of,’ said Luwin.

She briefly considered saying she did, but decided that would be a bit too problematic. Ned won’t be too happy and adultery by a woman was a serious affair. But the question where Ned found a Targaryen woman confounded her, she could only think of one of childbearing age alive during the war.

‘Maester, how did my husband meet Queen Rhaella?’

‘Queen Rhaella?,’ Luwin’s eyebrows went up high, ‘Prince Rhaegar Targaryen entered into a Targaryen style polygamous marriage to Lady Lyanna, and their son Jaehaerys has been with us in Winterfell over all these years.’

At that point, Catelyn decided fainting again was not too bad an option.

* * *

 

_Lord Monterys Velaryon, White Harbor_

Lord Monterys had no desire to get off his ship, and in fact detested having to stop here en route to Eastwatch. But the Spider said there might be good news by the time he got this far up North, and he decided to check for himself.

Good news arrived in the form of Robb Stark himself entering the cabin and announcing he was joining them on the trip to the Wall. Velaryon briefly wondered how the devil did Robb Stark know that he was even here, but was soon presented with letters from Ned Stark and Varys himself to explain. _Looks like Stark has seen reason after all. In any case, I hold his heir now, assuming he wants to play any fishy games. I hope that dog does not cause issues._

_Time to rescue His Grace from these Northern savages._

* * *

 

_Benjen Stark, The Wall._

Benjen had been surprised to get the raven from Eastwatch that Lord Monterys Velaryon was coming here. _Lords generally do not come up here, can’t be thinking of taking the black now, is he?_ Of course, he knew that there was something else going on. Officially, the purpose was to bring a dozen men to the Watch and visit poor Maester Aemon, whose mother had been a Velaryon. But he was also privy to the letter Velaryon had sent to Lord Commander Mormont, requesting that Jon not be sworn in and had offered a dozen men in return. Mormont had asked him why Velaryon even cared. He was perfectly aware why, but didn’t mention Lyanna to Mormont, vaguely mentioning that he himself was against letting any under the age of sixteen from saying the final vows. He was simply hoping for some more entertainment, so rare this far up North, from whatever games Velaryon wanted to play. Of course, he had regretted effectively telling Mormont to not sign his nephew up, for the Old Bear had stopped him from going ranging. Mormont claimed he was too old, and needed an heir when the uncle of his first choice had stopped him from even inducting the said recruit into the Watch. So he was now stuck in Castle Black, waiting for Velaryon.

A commotion had broken out and he turned to see fat Tarly run towards him. ‘Maester Aemon has gone mad!,’ screamed Samwell. _Hardly, that man is saner than anyone else, including me. I don’t think his years have caught up with him yet._

However, the voice did sound uncomfortably like Maester Aemon’s, though he was certain he had never heard the man whoop either. He walked over to see the old man trying to dance with his unwilling (and scared looking) nephew, screaming ‘We are back in power, we are back in power!! Death to all traitors! Burn them all!!’

_I guess I know where Aerys got his behavior from, then. But how the devil does he even know about Jon?_

He turned to see Lord Commander Mormont looking at him sternly. ‘Your brother, the Lord Hand wrote’ said Lord Commander Mormont ‘apparently Robert Baratheon is dead, so are his brothers and their families. Roberts children were apparently fathered by Jaime Lannister, creating a succession crisis. Any idea why he has written these details to the Watch?’

 _Because he needs a new King?_ ‘I am not completely sure.’

‘Funny, for the letter asks me to speak with you about details about how Jon Snow is the legitimate King of the Seven Kingdoms.’

Benjen heard a _thunk_ and turned to see that Jon had hit his head on a post and fainted. _I wish I thought of that first._

* * *

 

Velaryon and Robb got there the next day, and Jon at first refused to meet any of them, still too traumatized to speak after discovering the whole episode (personally, Benjen suspected that the issue was Maester Aemon humming ‘burn them all’ all the time). Robb of course did not care and barged right in, followed by what seemed like the rest of the Watch.

‘Your Grace,’ spoke Lord Velaryon ‘The Realm has need of you’

‘Fuck the realm!’ came the reply.

‘This is a great honor Jon,’ yelled Robb.

‘Oh yeah? Let me ask a few questions- can I marry whoever I want?’

‘You are engaged to Margaery Tyrell’

‘Can I travel wherever I want?’

‘Of course not.’

‘Can I do whatever I want?’

‘No.’

‘Then why be King and give up the freedoms of a bastard?’

‘Firstly because you have apparently been crowned since you were born, and secondly there is no one else.’

‘Find that girl in Essos for all I care, I am staying here.’

‘No, you are not,’ said LC Mormont. ‘Lord Velaryon has given me a dozen men for keeping you out, which is worth more than you, Targaryen or not.’

‘And Father wanted me to tell you that you have no place in Winterfell now, or anywhere in the North, ’ added Robb. ‘It is either the crown or join the Wildlings, as you have no money to get to the Free Cities.’

‘The climes North of the Wall seem fairly attract—‘ _clunk_

Jon had collapsed into the ground again, and Lord Velaryon wore a very self-satisfied smirk, clutching a small club which he had just used.

‘Impressive, no bleeding,’ LC Mormont noted.

‘This is from the east, I think they call it ‘rubber’?’

‘I would not mind one, actually’ said Robb.

‘I am gifting this one to your father, he will need it.’

‘Nah, Jon will show sense once we get away from here. Which reminds me, we should move him right now, as he is unconscious.’

‘Get that damn wolf of his, Maester Aemon and Samwell Tarly as well. Lord Ned wanted all of them to be around. And start calling him Jaehaerys, we need practice, lots of it.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The inspiration behind Jon's behavior came from reading the 11th Century historian Michael Psellus about the crowning of Empress Theodora in 1042 (she was 62).
> 
> 'Astounded by the unexpectedness of this sight, she refused at first to give way to their pleading and shut herself up in the church, deaf to every entreaty. The citizen army, however, giving up all hope of persuasion, used force, and some of their number, drawing their daggers, rushed in as if to kill her. Boldly they dragged her from the sanctuary, brought her out into the open, and clothed her in a magnificent robe. Then they made her sit on a horse, and forming a circle all about her, they led her to the great church of Santa Sophia. Homage was paid to her, not now by a mere fraction of the people, but by all the elite as well. Everyone, with utter disregard for the tyrant, and loud applause for her, proclaimed Theodora empress.'-Chronographia, Michael Psellus
> 
> Theodora was the only second (and last) woman to be Emperor/Imperator/Basileus of Romans, as opposed to being 'Empress', but unlike Irene of Athens (who was the first), she did not have to blind/kill her son for it. Theodora and her sister Zoe were the last of the Macedonian dynasty of Byzantium, their worthy Uncle Basil II having never married and their father Constantine VIII only had girls (they had a sister who became a nun). There had been worthy women in the history of the Empire- Pulcheria, Ariadne, Theodora(6th Cent, Justinian's wife) etc, but Theodora was the only one allowed to be a sole ruler, and that too by the people to defy an usurper (Michael V) who threatened the Macedonian line. The Citizen's of Constantinople feared for the lives of Theodora and Zoe (who was a total fool and had adopted Michael, after giving the throne to two incompetent husbands), and crowned Theodora to show who they truly considered as a ruler. Zoe, the idiot-married again and pushed Theodora back, and she could only rule alone for only a year 1055-1056, before dying at the age of 76, and taking the last hope for Byzantium with her. After her, the steady decline accelerated, and the great Empire of her Uncle was de-facto ruined by a defeat in Manzikert at 1071.


	5. And it Looks like I am a King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddard Stark meets King Jaehaerys III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Own nothing, title shamelessly stolen from 'Let it Go' from 'Frozen'
> 
> Lord Ned meets up with his nephews entourage-this is a short chapter, prelude to the intense, first day of court.

_Kings Landing_

Ned Stark was glad to know that Lord Velaryon had been successful in dragging his nephew to the Capital, apparently without much issue. The ship had just berthed at the harbor and he was riding out to greet his new King and drag him to the Red Keep.

 _Fuck protocol, I must go to greet the King, and he must not appear to be the one coming to me. It would have been so much more efficient to let Velaryon pull Jon, no Jaehaerys to the Keep._ Then again, the odds of his nephew slipping away into the crowd, after weeks of being locked inside a ship cabin, was pretty large. _I have to be the one to escort him._ He knew Jon, Jon would not run from him.

He was not surprised to see Lord Velaryon and Robb on the deck, but he was surprised to see that Ghost and Grey Wind were quivering in a corner. Getting closer, he realized the source of their discomfort, apparently someone was dragging long nails on rock and he was forced to cover his ears.

‘Lord Monterys, Robb. What the devil is that awful sound?’

Robb simply grinned, and waved at him. Velaryon nodded, and he was the one to reply.

‘I am afraid your son cannot hear you Lord Stark. He has stuffed his ears with cotton to escape this ordeal, as have most of my men. This is Maester Aemon’s well-intentioned attempt to introduce His Grace to the harp.’

 _How the devil? Rhaegar was so much more better. I need to find a good teacher for him soon, else Margaery will not be too happy._ Aloud, he wondered, ‘How are you unaffected?’

‘I heard Aerys play, trust me-I have survived much worse. His Grace is infinitely more talented than his grandsire, although his skills as not of the same caliber as his father and grandmother.’

 _Lyanna could never play anything for the life of it, and I never had either Jon or Robb exposed to the finer arts._ It was a useless luxury in the North, but now…..

‘I feel I must also warn you Lord Stark, Maester Aemon’s eyesight has greatly improved on the account of the new contraption I got from Volantis. Eyeglasses, I believe they are called. His Grace fancied himself a pair too, though he variety for normal sight.’

 _What the devil?_ ‘Why?’

‘Apparently to look older and more dignified?’

‘Wearing a new-fangled contraption? Has he gone full Targaryen and totally taken leave of his senses?’

That was the moment when the two dragons chose to venture out. He had to admit, the weird thing around Maester Aemon’s eyes did make him look dignified. His nephew on the other hand,…. _Well, I hope his wife has better fashion sense?_

‘Lord Stark,’ began Aemon, ‘Your role in the so called Robert’s rebellion leaves much to be desired.’

_Is he going to start about this now? Is this only because of age or was he just pushed off to the wall as he was so clueless to begin with?_

‘However,’ Aemon continued, ‘in light of your recent actions, His Grace has decided to pardon you and appoint you as Regent till he is of age. He also desires that you continue as Hand, as reward for treating His Grace appropriately over all these years.’

Jon was shaking his head and making a series of hand gestures that clearly seemed to suggest his low opinion of Aemon’s sanity. _At least this Targaryen had the coin fall on the right side._ His nephew smiled on seeing him, and it was the normal kind (not, as he grew to call it, the Aerys kind, which appeared whenever the boys pulled a prank on Theon or Sansa).

‘Lord Stark,’ spoke King Jaehaerys III, ‘We have much to discuss.’

 _That we do, go over the whole story again. ‘_ To the Keep then, Your Grace?’

‘Certainly.’

* * *

 

As it turned out, serious discussions were greatly delayed by his little princess, who ran out to meet her brothers. Arya’s lack of adherence to protocol surprisingly did not scandalize anyone, not even Lord-Prim-and-Proper Velaryon or Old Maester Aemon (he hoped those mutters about Visenya Targaryen was just a trick his ears were playing, damaged by the Royal ‘music’). After successfully monopolizing Jon for three hours (one of talking, two of Water Dancing), she finally left with Robb, promising to return and start planning names for her nephews and nieces.

_Thank God Sansa isn’t here, if she was-she would have made a scandal about how wrong we are to usurp her Joffrey and jail Cersei. I don’t think I could have spared her from being sent to the Silent Sisters then. That would have been too serious a breach of protocol._

Finally though, it was just the two of them, in the library. Jon took the seat behind the Royal table, and he sat in the other chair in front. Jon lowered his eyeglasses till they were dangling at the end of his nose, a sight that was almost comical.

‘Lord Stark, the aff—‘

‘Cut the drama, will you? I promised I will tell you about your mother, and well, now is the time. It is certainly not how I wanted it to be but we don’t have a better choice.’

Jon removed those glasses, and Ned could see that the edges of his eyes were slightly moist. ‘Let’s talk about the official things first. We will talk about this later.’

‘First things first, you are betrothed to Margaery Tyrell, who is three months older than you and is widowed. However, her earlier husband preferred his roses with thorns, and so she is a maiden-the septas assure me the maidenhead is very much there. Therefore, there is no way you are getting out of this and don’t even dare think of pulling a Duncan on me.’

‘I know my duty, plus I hear she is pretty at the very least. It could have been worse, you could have matched me up with a Frey?’

 _Hell forbid, another from Fishlandia? That too from the Twins?_ ‘I am flattered by your high opinion of me.’ _If anyone betrothed me to one of them, I would have ran and joined a Dothraki Khal._

‘Game of Thrones, Uncle, game of thrones. And no, I am not wearing red, not even if you threaten me with a Frey betrothal.’

 _How the hell do you know what I was thinking?_ He wondered the same thing aloud.

‘So, I had a conversation with someone from Troutland on the Voyage, although he is from a proper family-Blackwood.’

Eddard nodded, the Old God worshipping Blackwoods were very respectable.

‘His name is Brynden, he is 125 years old and has a thousand eyes and one.’

Eddard Stark found the moment to be an appropriate one to faint.


	6. Lannister Trials

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cersei wakes the dragon.

_Maegor's Holdfast_

Eddard Stark was in the Throne room, along with nearly all the Lords and Ladies available. Lord Royce had joined them from the Vale, and most of the Reach Lords were already there, along with the ones from the Crownlands. Today was going to be a big day after all, the Lannisters were going to be tried and sentenced. He wished he could have already taken care of them but he could not. No one would fault him for making Pycelle or minor Lords like Baelish a head shorter, but executing a House Paramount required a King.

 _Not that we were in disagreement about what needs to be done._ Jon had rubberstamped his plans after he had recovered sufficiently to state them. There had only been a few minor points of discontent, such as over asset management of the crown and the execution details. He had told his nephew quite firmly that he was not going to be the one to swing the sword as he was not yet of age. It would fall upon the Lord Regent, the Uncle of the King to perform that duty. And he was looking forward to it, no matter how much Jon pouted.

The king was fashionably late, just long enough to make the lords realize that he didn’t care very much for their time, but not long enough to hint incompetence. _As we decided last night._ He was glad to know that Jon was wearing dark blue, instead carrying out his threat of wearing pink. Jon had steadfastly refused the Targaryen colours, claiming red was too Lannister and black reminded him too much of the Night’s Watch. The eye-glasses however were still there, on top his nose. Ned made a mental decision to confiscate them after it all got over.

The King walked to the Iron Throne, and waited expectantly. It took the assembled Lords a bit long to realize that they were supposed to sing ‘Many years to the King!’ but they followed Ned’s cue. _Royal protocol will take years to fix._

‘Lord Hand, what is the business of the day?’

‘The Lannister trials, Your Grace.’ _Well, the public version-they have already been sentenced._ He wanted to see Cersei’s face so badly.

‘Bring the prisoners here and hand me the charge-sheets.’

 _Another crazy idea, to have charge-sheets. But whatever._ Aloud he yelled, ’You heard him!’

The prisoners, all bound and gagged arrived faster than the papers as Varys was in charge and not Tarly. The father-son reunion on that side had been temporarily delayed, over the reluctance exhibited by both sides.

The king moved the spectacles to the end of his nose, and picked up the first piece of paper. ‘Hmm, Tommen Waters: no crimes committed, ward of the state on account of incompetent parents. The Faith wants your head for being a product of incest. The Wall will be the best place. Next.’

Tommen was quickly removed from the room, and he was due on the next ship to Eastwatch in an hour. _One less headache._

‘Myrcella Waters: Charges and circumstances same as Tommen’s. To the Silent Sisters.’

_Excellent, so far._

‘Joffrey Waters: Charged with hmm, a multitude of serious crimes. ‘

_Wait, what? It was supposed to be same as Tommen’s ._

‘Charges include: insulting the King at Winterfell, attempted murder of Brandon Stark-‘ _Joffrey was behind that?_ Jon would know though, with all the tricks he had picked up from Bloodraven. He knew Baelish gave the dagger to Joffrey, but had so far thought it was stolen and then used for the crime by an agent of Baelish. _One less crime against the man._

‘murder of one Mycah, murder of a sibling of the royal direwolf and harm against another sibling and inappropriate suggestions to high-born ladies.’ finished the King. ‘Do you have anything to say?’

The gag was torn off, but it was difficult to interpret the stream of sounds that came out of Joffrey’s mouth. A few words like ‘king’ and ‘bastard’ could be distinguished.

‘So the bastard is trying to apologize to the King?’, spoke Jaehaerys Targaryen. ‘Not granted. Sentenced to death, to be executed after the trials end.’

That was a slight change of plans, and Tarly looked a bit shocked. But not enough to complain, and he, who as regent could possibly try to appeal, was not going to do so. _If he was the one who sent the assassin after Bran, I would chop his head off with pleasure._

‘Tyrion Lannister: Crimes committed include being born both an Imp and a Lannister. Do you plead guilty?’

The imp had just been able to say ‘Yes’ when he was gagged up again. _The men were ordered to ensure he was quiet._

‘Very well then, your sentence is fairly straight forward. The claims of House Lannister on the Rock have been voided, and so I am appointing you as Imperial Secretary in Charge of Newly Acquired Assets in Kings Landing. Give him his letter of appointment.’

 _That had been a sticking point._ Everyone wanted to send him to the Wall, except Jon and Aemon. Both were convinced he was innocent, and that his skills could be put to better use. Tarly and he had been scandalized by their proposal, but ultimately the recently acquired royal property needed an asset manager who knew what to do, unlike either of them.

‘Imperial Secretary in Charge of Royal Brothels in Kings Landing?’ Tyrion Lannister spoke, his jaw hanging down.

‘Certainly, acquired by Baelish with funds siphoned off the state. I want them running a proper profit, and that too soon! Your words are basically ‘Hear me Whore’ so you were the right candidate. Do not fail me, or else you join your nephew. Take him to his office.‘

 _Well, he was the best person for the job,_ thought Ned as the imp was dragged off.

‘Jaime Lannister: Charges include Regicide, incest, attempting to murder Brandon Stark, attempt to silence witnesses and generally being a stuck-up incompetent prick. How do you plead?’

‘Guilty, but he wanted to burn us all!’ screamed the disheveled Kingslayer, who barely looked half so golden as before. Varys had admitted he was drugging Jaime Lannister to stop him from trying to escape, although he had forbidden Varys from ever drugging Cersei again. Robb was looking murderously at the man, and he realized he might have to allow Robb and Jon to together kill Joffrey, just so that they felt better about avenging Bran.

‘Sentenced to death. Now Cersei Lannister: Charges include incest, attempt to murder, involvement in killing direwolves and being generally a stuck up cunt. How do you plead?’

 _Now the fun begins._ He had purposely not warned Jon about Cersei, as revenge for scaring him with Bloodraven.

‘I want to marry you Your Grace, all my actions were to prove my devotion to you!’, screamed Cersei Lannister.

King Jaehaerys III looked shocked, and so did nearly every one of the Lords. Mace Tyrell’s face had turned purple and Lord Royce looked murderous.

‘Woman,’ roared Lord Tarly ‘have you taken leave of your senses?’

‘I can assure you that I have the right qualifications to be your Queen, your Grace. I was supposed to be married to your father, until he got involved with that sickly fool and the wolf bitch.’ _You should not have said that._ ‘I can supply you with all the gold in the Rock, and having birthed three children, there is no scope of me being barren.’

The spectacles fell to the floor as Jaehaerys Targaryen stood up. There was no trace of Jon Snow on that face, but something far more sinister was quite visible, just underneath the surface.

‘ _You have some nerve to dare say that, after what Lannister bannermen did to my brother and sister!’_

‘Of course Your Grace, that is why you know we will be loyal as we thus cleared your path to the Thro—‘

The ground shook pretty strongly, and all the glass in the room promptly exploded. Except Aemon’s glasses, as the old man continued to look unperturbed. Jaehaerys however was shaking in anger. _You should not have said that._

‘THAT IS IT! BURN. THEM. ALL!’

_Well, that was unexpected, but appropriate._


	7. Waking the Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Margaery meets the dragon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning-this chapter may be disturbing to many readers. Please DO NOT continue if you found Aerys II to be a character beyond salvation.

_Continued from the previous chapter.(Ned POV)_

‘I actually have a better suggesti—‘spoke Maester Aemon.

‘No, I am not sanctioning unethical experimentation for testing your crazy ideas!’ snapped Jaehaerys.

‘Your Grace, I have a daughter if you think I am too old. You can have us both, like in Targaryen tradition.‘ tried Cersei. _That is a little sick._ The Other lords thought so too, judging from the number of disgusted faces. Mace Tyrell looked like he would strangle Cersei.

Jaehaerys’ face had turned whiter than snow, and a vein was throbbing in his forehead. ‘I changed my mind,’ declared the King. ‘Maester Aemon has my express blessings to do what he wants to Joffrey and any Lannister adult. Furthermore, as King I am also the defender of the Faith, and I hereby declare a pardon for any questionable acts that may be committed in the process. The Seven will not see any actions committed against this family of swine in an unfavorable light.’

‘Your Gra—‘

‘One more word Lannister, and I shall personally educate you with the Eastern custom of Death by a Thousand cuts. I advise you close both your mouth and your legs, if you do not want to be intimately acquainted with slow slicing. No, don’t reply—men, just gag her up-I don’t want to give in so easily.’

‘So what is it going to be Maester? Should I send for quicksilver?’, continued the King.

‘Ah, no-that is a special for Tywin. I think your orders should be carried out, and we should instead send for a pyromancer’ said the Old Man with a wide grin on his face.

‘We are fortunate that Hallyne from the Guild is already here, Your Grace. He hopes for the restoration of the patronage offered by the Targaryen Kings,’ spoke Varys.

‘Excellent, excellent’ cackled Maester Aemon. ‘This room will do perfectly; these sentences have been carried out here before. I hope the Lords will stay for the show. Varys, be a dear and get the eggs while Hallyne prepares the set up.’

_Ouch, this is not a scene I wanted to see. But this is the price of defying a Targaryen and the sentence this time is well earned._

Within moments there were three Lannisters trussed up and tied to the three iron pillars in the middle of the room. Hallyne was busy spraying them with some liquid, which a few acolytes were stacking wildfire at the base of the pillars. Aemon walked forwards and dropped the three dragon eggs Varys had acquired from the east. Jaime Lannister looked highly discomfited at the circumstances, but was not in a position to actively register a protest.

Velaryon drew closer to him and whispered ‘I confess I have no idea what they are planning, should be interesting, right?’

He was about to reply, when he noticed a disturbance, and looked closely. Sansa had ran into the room, closely followed by Septa Mordane. _No, I told that blasted woman to keep her out._

Sansa tried to run to Joffrey, but Jory grabbed her before she could. Unfortunately her voice was loud enough to be heard across the room, ‘No, you stupid bastard, how dare you do this to the Queen and Joffrey!’

 _Well, at least she has not taken her Queen’s example and offered marriage._ Fear rose up within him as he realized what had happened the last time a Stark had defied a Targaryen in this room. _Everyone has seen this, I cannot do much if he decides to throw her in with the Lannisters._

‘Septa Mordane, I must say I am shocked at your sheer incompetence. This girl does not even know how to address her King,’ spoke Jaehaerys.

Mordane’s jaws were hanging open, probably because she was trying to match Jon Snow with the King in front of her, but wisely decided to keep quiet. Throwing her into the pyre would not earn the King the epithet of kingslayer after all, and so bowing low was the best option left to her.

‘Take this foolish girl away and teach her how to address a King. I expect her to repeat it perfectly fifty times this evening. She will repeat it fifty times for each failure’, Jaehaerys said, turning to wink at him. _Use Sansa’s courtesy against her, oh, very smart Jon._ He approved, after all the girl needed some discipline before being sent to the Umbers.

Maester Aemon had reappeared in the room, wearing a rainbow colored robe and a pointed hat with the same colour scheme. He moved his glasses up his nose, as he looked around. ‘Everything ok?’ he asked Hallyne.

‘Yes, Your Grace. The gags are fireproof, so no chance of being bothered by screams.’

‘Excellent. Set it off.’

Ned Stark was glad for the sudden flare of the flames that rushed up all three pillars, for that spared him from actually seeing all three Lannisters burn. However, his attention shifted to more important things when he heard three loud cracks, followed by three screeches. _What the hell?_

‘Aemon’s plan worked?’ whispered Velaryon.

It had indeed, for three small reptiles walked out of the flames, moving towards the King. _Black, White and Green. But there is a numerical mismatch, and Maester Aemon is nearly a hundred. Guess we need to call the Targaryen girl back after all._

‘Lord Mace,’ said the King, turning to face him. ‘How long will it take you to organize the wedding? Because the bedding happens tonight, irrespective of how long it actually takes you lot.’

 _The King has an unconventional approach to problems, let us hope for twins._ It was perhaps the best idea, especially judging from Mace’s smirk as he realized his daughter will be a Queen before the day ended.

_Well, perhaps a shotgun wedding was precisely what Jon was looking for, to avoid all the drama._

* * *

POV switch---Jon Snow/King Jaehaerys III Targaryen.

Well, the wedding was not too bad. It was done rather hastily of course, with little chance to actually prepare a grand feast. The ceremony had happened in Baelor of course, and the girl was pretty enough. The drama with the cloaks was good entertainment, as they had to hastily find a Targaryen cloak from somewhere. Mace’s tailors had to get one made, which delayed the ceremony till evening. The Imp had somehow secured adequate gold from his charges to finance a big feast. _Well, big in terms of people._ All the inns in Kings Landing had been ordered to serve food free, as well as the cheapest drink. _Not the finest fare for the Lords, but the smallfolk lapped it up._ _They at least were enthusiastic in singing ‘Many Years’ when we left Baelor.  
_ It was purely a stroke of inspiration that made him decide that he would treat the public to his musical skills. His Uncle’s pale face suggested that it might not be the best move, but he was after all, the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and needed to do his job.

His Uncle’s flabbergasted face, once he had actually started playing made him laugh. Aemon might have been a terrible teacher in many things, but he had taught him this art well. _Looks like that fake performance on board the ship helped a lot._

After a lot of applause from the smallfolk, the whole delegation retreated back to the Keep, where his Uncle called for the bedding, though it was barely sunset. _Just to embarrass me I suppose._ All of his wife’s cousins swooped down upon him, as Arya smirked from a distance, and before he knew it, he was pushed inside a room with Margaery, neither of them having too pieces of clothing on.

 _This is it,_ he thought, _I asked for it. Robb and Theon would laugh so much if they could see me now._

‘Erm, you look rather beautiful tonight?’

‘Let’s cut the nonsense out, shall we? I have been married once before already, and I swear that I will skin you alive, dragon or not, if I don’t get my wedding night this time. So I hope your plans of securing the succession are still in place. I don’t care whether you prefer men or sheep or whatever, seeing you actually joined the Watch once. But I need a kid to place on the Throne.’

 _Practical, I like that._ ‘Allow me to show you where my preferences lie then.’

Everything else for the night is redacted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aemon becomes Qyburn, Jon gets a Vegas Style wedding and his bravado runs out when he is actually locked in with the girl.
> 
> Now who can tell me how many features of his Grandfather Jon has inherited (other than burn them all)?


End file.
